Red Widow (Vivian Xu, Book 1) (40 page)

Nikolai had left his prints all over
the bullets, which matched the gunshot wounds on
Tatiana.

During police interviews, Nikolai
confessed to executing Tatiana before dumping her corpse in the
alleys. She must have found a connection between Nikolai and Syllax
to suffer such a dire fate—perhaps within the
nightstand.

As for Dr. Cervenka, his tattered body
was discovered in his office with over a dozen stab wounds to his
face. The savageness of the crime was on par with Viktor Rezník’s
killings—and the needle marks almost convinced the police that his
rampage now included a male victim.

Oddly enough, there were small traces
of blood in the office that didn’t match Viktor’s DNA profile.
Jezebel was quick to pair the blood samples with Nikolai’s and
alert the police of his crimes. If that wasn’t enough, Cervenka’s
phone records revealed that he spoke to Nikolai shortly before the
murder, placing him in close proximity when the crime
occurred.

But the mysteries didn’t end there.
During Camilla’s investigation, she learned no one matched the
description of the vagrant Vivian allegedly killed. A firearms
forensics analyst concluded that Vivian never fired the gun in her
possession. It seemed more likely that she fantasized about the
entire incident.

But none of that mattered anymore.
Vivian was safe from Nikolai and Viktor’s twisted schemes, as was
every woman who dared to sleep soundly at night in
Prague.

* * *

Vivian set down her backpack stuffed
with medical terminology books. Spring semester had concluded in a
flurry of finals that left her head spinning. At last, she could
retreat from her textbooks for a few weeks before plunging back
into the fray.

Vivian swept the hospital curtain
aside, expecting to find her father in a comatose sleep and quite
possibly drooling on his gown.

Instead she found him tugging on the
IV in his arm.

“
Dad, you have to leave it
in!” She rushed to his side and squeezed his hand. Looking down at
the IV arching from his arm, she stole a glance at her own wrist.
The needle mark had faded several months ago.

Fortunately, some of Viktor’s research
remained, identifying the enzyme used to break down Syllax in the
body. The detox screenings ensured every drop of Syllax was purged
from her veins.

“
What? No flowers for me
today?” her father asked with a weary smile, relaxing his thick
arm. He was still fighting the sedative, flexing the same
stubbornness Vivian inherited from him.

“
I have something even
better,” she smiled.

“
Oh?”

She reached into her backpack, digging
through hundreds of pages of textbooks and the lunch her mother
packed.

“
My physiology essay,” she
proclaimed, brandishing it with glee. “My teacher told me I have
the highest score in the class.” Her father excitedly grabbed the
report and began to read. Moments later, his brow wrinkled with
concern.

“
You wrote about
Syllax?”

“
Well, you could say I’m
somewhat of an expert in that field of knowledge.”

“
Yes,” he said hesitantly.
“I’m just surprised you would revisit that subject. Your mother
tells me you stopped going to therapy.”

“
I think I’ve finally made
peace with what happened.”

“
Six months is too short a
time to put that behind you.”

“
Trust me, Dad, I’m fine. I
don’t wake up in a panic in the middle of the night anymore. I
don’t even think about the serial killer or Syllax. Maybe it’s
because I don’t have time to think about it. I’m so consumed with
my studies so I can test back into the nursing program.”

“
But you still think about
Nikolai?” he asked. Vivian’s face took on the countenance of
petrified stone, and her eyes burned intensely.

“
How can I not?” she
growled. “He almost killed you. It hasn’t been the same since
you’ve been confined to the hospital.” She gazed solemnly at his
chest, where the bullet had penetrated and unfolded into
razor-sharp petals. The damage to his spine had paralyzed him from
the waist down, and his legs were growing emaciated from the months
of disuse.

Her father suddenly gasped in pain and
floundered in bed.

“
Can I get you anything?”
Vivian said, frantically looking for a glass of water or an extra
pillow.

“
No, honey, it’s fine,” he
sighed. “I’m due for my final operation soon. The doctors claim
they missed some shrapnel from that damned bullet. Sometimes I
wonder if those idiots just like to poke around my guts until they
find something out of place.”

He chuckled dryly.

The morning sun peeked through the
curtains and chased away the darkness and despair in his heart. He
couldn’t see beyond the window as it glowed brilliantly. It filled
him with an exhilarating sense of wonder, and he imagined what
awaited him beyond this life and this simple existence on
earth.

“
Vivian, I’ve had plenty of
time to think while I’ve been in the hospital… and I want to tell
you something should I never get the chance to.”

“
Don’t, Dad. You make it
sound like you won’t be coming back.” The cruel thought of her
father leaving brought scorching tears to her eyes.

“
No, Vivian, you need to
hear this. I realize I haven’t done a good job of telling you what
you mean to me. I’m quick to point out your flaws or say what you
should do with your life, but I never take the time to encourage
you. I’m sorry for that.”

“
Dad, I know you care about
me.”

“
But when was the last time
I said you are intelligent? Or beautiful? Can you remember the last
time I said you could always come to me when you were in trouble?
You’re blossoming into a strong, intelligent woman and soon you
won’t need me anymore… even though I wish you could stay my
daughter forever.”

“
I’m always going to be
your daughter!”

“
But I almost lost you. I
only have myself to blame for letting fear drive a wedge between
us. I don’t say I love you nearly as much I should or tell you how
proud I am to be your father. Don’t think for a second that I’m
ashamed of you or that I withhold my love. Even when we have our
differences, when it comes down to it, you are the most special
woman in my life.”

Vivian nodded, finding it hard to
accept his praise. She was her harshest critic, and it was almost
too much to hear these words from her father. There wasn’t a day
that went by that she didn’t doubt her dreams or brand herself a
failure.

Her father stroked her
hand.

“
You have ambitions that I
would never dream of attempting on my own. Even if you have to make
mistakes along the way, I know you possess the strength to pick
yourself back up. Vivian, I’m begging you. Let go of your fear.
Don’t be afraid to fail.”

Vivian winced as the first of many
tears slipped through her cold façade. She hated for him to see her
cry. She had braved death more than enough times, but she feared
failure worse than mortality itself, than the prospect of never
rising from the lowest place in society.

“
I’ll… I’ll try not to be
afraid anymore.”

The rigid walls surrounding her
emotions came tumbling down as he kissed her lightly on the
cheek.

“
There will come a day when
you don’t need to be afraid anymore, when everything in your life
will be just as you always pictured it. That day will come, I
promise you, Vivian.”

“
When that day comes, will
you still be here?”

“…
Yes.”

They basked in the silence.

“
It’s nice to have you
back, Vivian.”

“
You, too, Dad. Don’t take
too long in there. I’ll be waiting right by your bed when you wake
up.”

He smiled and it lit up her world in
ways that she couldn’t describe. She rested her head on his chest
and squeezed his hand with all of her might.

She was finally home.

_____________________________

About the Author

Nathan Wilson was born and
raised in Lansing, Michigan. He was inspired by his sister to write
fiction at age seven. In 2012, he published his debut novel,
The Undying God.

Discover other titles by Nathan Wilson
at Smashwords.com:

The
Undying God

Connect with me
online:

nrwilson.com